


The Midnight Prince

by Lockea



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Slavery, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 11:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17263523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lockea/pseuds/Lockea
Summary: It hadn’t happened, not in all of the millennia vampires had existed, that a turned human, a thrall, had shifted from a sterile beta to either a siring alpha or bearing omega. Never. Until, rumor has it, a young thrall belonging to a minor vampire lord in Gotham presents as an omega. Now the vampire world is thrown into an uproar when one of the Midnight Princes himself, Lord Richard Grayson, takes the thrall, Jason, for himself.





	The Midnight Prince

**Author's Note:**

> I must have been drinking something really good about a year ago when I wrote most of this first chapter. Today while cleaning out my fics, I found it and thought "You know, I've written weirder shit." and decided to inflict this on you all.
> 
> I mean, I say that, but really it was the random cheering from the JayDick Discord server that made me finish off that last scene of this chapter and decide maybe I'll do more with it. I want to focus on Crimson and my Voltron fics first, but it's certainly a fun idea, and if there's any interest in continuing it I'm not opposed to keep working on it.
> 
> I do have to be honest, it's inspired by a Vampire Knight fanfiction, "The Week of Four Thursdays". I highly recommend that fanfiction, regardless of if you're familiar with Vampire Knight or not, because the epic levels of soap opera-like DRAMA those vampires go through is truly a wild ride and it's an incredibly well written story.

The main ballroom of the old Wayne manor was full and loud with mixed anticipation as the court mingled amongst one another at the annual gathering of the court for their celebrations of betrothals, of births, of new news. Yet it wasn’t the usual atmosphere of the court, this mingled anticipation towards the rarity of the night. Lord Sionis had reported – and Bruce had confirmed – that one of his thralls had shifted to an omega. Now, even the eldest and sleepiest of the vampires had made the journey from the surrounding areas to attend Gotham’s Midnight Court for a glimpse of such an oddity.

Dick didn’t really care one way or another. He smiled and charmed and flirted with lovely omegas and beta women as he made his rounds and made small talk even as all his efforts inevitably turned towards the true prize of the night.

“What will become of the omega?” One beta vampire asked curiously, a noble of bare enough rank to be in attendance here, but she was sweet and charming and friendly, so Dick always made sure she was on the guest list. “To think, a thrall having such a rare ability.”

Dick pushed a smile to his face and with easy cadence replied, “That will be determined tonight, won’t it? Perhaps some noble couple will not mind a little tainted blood in their lineage. As for me, I have heard Lord Drake has shifted to an omega and intends to announce his courtship tonight. I rather think a pureblood like himself would be put out if all of us were more interested in a mere thrall.”

The woman blushed, and Dick smiled in friendly warning, the scent of her blood pooling so close to the surface of her skin barely enough to awaken his own hunger. Hmm… He’d have to feed soon. Perhaps one of the Wayne’s own thralls would be available. Better even their blood than the blood of a human. “Of course, my lord. I mean no disrespect.”

Dick flitted away, eventually coming back to Bruce’s side where the king of the Midnight Court presided over the events from a dais at the head of the room, his own son – a pureblood of the cleanest lineage – seated beside him. They weren’t in competition, Dick and Damian, no matter how much the court enjoyed speculating over it. Still, it benefited both sons – the adopted and the biological – to let the court believe they were in a wary truce with one another.

“Talk is centered on Sionis’ omega tonight. Barely a whisper of Tim’s coming of age or courtship or any other rumors of importance.” Dick reported.

Bruce nodded, the barest imperceptibility of the action visible. “Perhaps we should decide the omega’s fate before Tim makes his debut?  It would be a shame for such a pureblood to play second to a thrall of all creatures.”

“It’s novelty, nothing more.” Dick assesses. “Best do away with this untasteful display and see what hideous creature this thrall omega is, then we can move on to the more important debuts.”

Bruce nods his assent. With a wave of his hand, the vampire attending him – a commoner, for no thrall has ever served in the Wayne household, one of the oldest and most noble of American bloodlines – disappears to speak to Roman Sionis and inform him of the plan.

Dick settles in to wait, curiously regarding the midnight court. He sees the Drakes with their sour expressions. Their son is precious to be an omega, but all talk is not centered on him and Dick can tell it grates at them. They’d like to take credit for raising a child like Timothy Drake who will be the jewel of the vampire realm, but Dick imagines Tim wouldn’t mind his own debut happening with less fanfare, especially if it annoys his parents.

A hush falls over the great hall and Dick casts his gaze to where Lord Sionis is parting the nobles of the Midnight Court like a sea, but it is not the vampire lord who has everyone’s attention. The vampire following in his footsteps is young, as all who shift are, caught on the cusp between adolescence and adulthood. He’s whipcord and wiry but with a bulk and a weight to him that speaks to his future—that is, if shifting doesn’t drastically alter his appearance over time. Sionis has dressed him to impress, in the traditional robes of a male omega, belted at the natural waist, in red chrysanthemum and black linen, the long loose sleeves covering his hands. The robes fall open around the shoulders, baring the neck and revealing the red blossom choker with black lace, tight enough to be a mark of ownership, a decorative collar no noble or pureblood omega would wear. His hands, likewise, are chained in front of him, a reminder that he is the lowliest of the vampires here tonight, a thrall to be bought and sold. When Lord Timothy announces his intention to court, he will choose his mate from many suitors – this thrall, instead, will be chosen, bought, and paid for.

Dick tries not to be impressed, but in fact he is. The omega has striking eyes – so green it almost hurts to look at them, even as a white forelock falls in his face, unable to be brushed back by the status of his hands. He must have been a good-looking child as a human, for he is absolutely striking as a vampire, even with his hair shorn close to his head in a sigil of his status.

Sionis knows all eyes are on the omega; Dick can tell from tone of his voice as the hush spreads across the crowd. “Lords, Ladies of the Midnight Court.” The Lord grandstands his words, pitched and sold to the audience. “And, of course, to the King of the Midnight Court and his two Princes.” This with false obeisance to Bruce, Dick, and Damian. “This is a rather unusual debut, but it is a rather unusual case. My thrall, who is nearing a century and a decade in age, has shifted bodies. Though we know little about the status of his fertility, there is no denying the sweet delicacy of an omega to an alpha’s sense. So before the true jewel of the night announces his own courtship I present to you a mere shadow of that which is truly precious.”

Dick’s eyes flicker around the hall, catching on those present and finally falling on the omega. His eyes are downcast, demure and sweet, but there’s tension in his jaw, a fist curled around the chain binding his wrists. Interesting – there’s barely a hint of discontent but what Dick sees speaks volumes.

Bruce rises to his feet and in deference Dick and Damian follow as the hall’s silence becomes reverential. “In a normal courtship, the omega would choose an alpha of their own. However, given the circumstances, the choice of who to court falls upon the omega’s master.” Bruce explains to the crowd. “Lord Sionis, your choice?”

There’s something nasty in Roman Sionis’s gaze as he returns Bruce’s stare. “I could not, in good conscious, make such a choice and force an alpha of the noble or pureblood lineage to accept inferior blood, my king. So instead I propose to do as with any thrall. A special auction, here tonight, for any who would accept this omega into their house.”

Bruce expected this, Dick realizes, and this is mere formality. That leaves Dick to relax slightly as he catches Bruce’s impassive gaze. His pureblood foster father really does intend to allow this mockery of a courtship to take place. But Dick sees the reasoning. It would be viewed as an insult to any house if Sionis offered the omega to a noble family, for despite the precious status of a bearer, it is still a thrall of inferior blood at the end of the night.

“Very well.” Bruce concedes and takes his seat once more. “Begin.”

Dick watches the proceedings with impassive stoicism, studying each vampire as they tentatively offer items of value to Sionis in return for the omega. It is mostly the lowest ranking nobles in the room, the ones barely fit to be here, many alphas but a few alpha and beta couples who will conceive no other way than through an omega they have almost no hope of ever actually obtaining through regular means. Omegas are rare enough that there is only one for every five alphas. There is no higher honor for a vampire than to shift to an omega and carry on the lineage of their blood.

Occasionally, Dick watches the thrall shift and that perfect mask break slightly, the smallest twitch or twinge betraying emotion underneath. Dick considers himself freer with his emotions than most vampires – certainly more than any other member of the Wayne family – but living with such stoic vampires has taught him to read every flinch, every twinge, every clench of teeth or fist. The thrall is doing so well, but he is angry and like a child poking the hornet’s nest, Dick wants to see what happens when he loses control.

“Don’t.” Bruce warns him, and Dick hadn’t even realized what he’s let slip. “You invite trouble that way.”

“I am curious.” Dick replies simply. “What alpha does not desire an omega on their back beneath them? And look at how he flinches every time the price is raised. Such a lack of control would be more interesting than any of those of noble lineage. Such wild abandon.”

Bruce sighs and Dick grins, knowing he’s won. “You invite your own death, taking a thrall. The court will be in an uproar.”

“Perhaps.” Dick muses. “But it is not without appeal. Besides, he’s more than likely infertile. No one will blink if, once satisfied and he fails to conceive, I pass him along to someone else and take a true omega to my bed.”

“Arrogant.” Damian mutters, from the lofty position of being the most arrogant of the members of the household. The Prince of Two Courts, Damian is too young to be anything but a beta, but he carries himself like he’s already presented. It’s hard to tell which Damian would prefer; alpha or omega. Omegas are prized in the Midnight Court, but it is an alpha who carries weight in the Waning Moon Court of his mother’s heritage.

“Of course.” Dick agrees easily. Then he rises to his feet and is unsurprised when the room falls silent around him. To Sionis, Dick says, “You’ve presented a most delectable specimen, a strange creature to be sure, to the court this evening. You’ll have to forgive my curiosity, and my clout. I would offer you a great sum for your thrall.” He names his price and the court erupts in murmurs and speculation. Dick keeps his expression calm even as an internal grin widens the corners of his lips just slightly.

“I accept.” Sionis seems pleased; his thrall, less so. “I would be honored if you accepted the thrall as a sign of my obeisance to the Midnight Court and the Midnight Prince.” He steps aside and Dick steps down off the dais as the thrall takes slow steps forward, reluctance clear as he picks his way across the hall.

Dick holds one hand out, palm upturned, and clearly someone had coached the omega on how to complete a courtship request because both chained hands come up to rest on Dick’s outstretched one. With careful movements, deference to the robe, the omega bows the depth of a thrall acknowledging a new master, and Dick imagines what tonight will be like. This close, Dick can see the threaded blue of his green eyes, gray rimmed but still bright and poisonous. Dick has been enraptured then, by a young thrall with lovely eyes. He has no intention of humiliating the thrall in public any more than the omega already has been, so Dick lifts the omega’s hands and kisses the back of his hand, as he would any omega who had chosen him.

The court murmurs and Bruce’s gaze is hot on Dick’s back, as it is matched by the strange look in the omega’s eyes as Dick escorts the omega back up the dais and gestures for a servant to bring another chair for the omega to take. Thrall or not, Dick has no intention of demeaning an omega by making them kneel on the hard marble of the dais for the rest of the evening.

“Congratulations.” Bruce murmurs, low enough that only those near him can hear it, which means the thrall at Dick’s side hears as well. “You’ve invited scandal all for a whore.”

The thrall tenses, a sharp glance at Bruce and the words die in his throat. He wanted to say something; Dick wishes he could have heard it. He wonders what kind of voice the thrall will have. It’s stupid really, he’s passive, a plaything for Dick to amuse himself with, but he’s already enraptured.

“Well, it’s been a while since the Midnight Court had something to gossip about.” Dick points out, almost smug.

“Idiot.” Damian points out, but it lacks heat. The royalty of the Midnight Court fall silent as the door to the great hall opens once more. Sometime during the actions of the previous half hour, Jack and Janet Drake slipped out and returned to their son’s side, escorting him into the hall. In direct contrast to the thrall’s colors, Timothy Drake is resplendent in silk robes the color of the deep ocean, a midnight blue interrupted by graceful white feathers. The long sleeves are of a different design, the front panel of his robe embroidered in pale blue crystals, sparkling in the light. Tim’s hair is shorter than most vampires wear their own hair, but his bangs hang in his face, beautiful frames on a delicate face. Tim is a more conventional beauty, lovely in a way that speaks to the omega’s androgynous heritage. His neck and shoulders are freely shown, unmarked to show his availability – his desirability.

In this display, Tim takes a few steps forward, past his parents as he comes into the center of the room and bows only low enough to show respect for Bruce as the King of the Midnight Court. Bruce nods in return, but leaves the stage in Tim’s masterful hands.

The young vampire is a pureblood – not royalty like Bruce and his children, but high ranking nonetheless. If Bruce doesn’t court Tim, then someone from another court will likely steal him away. Dick hasn’t had a chance to speak with Tim since his change and doesn’t know what Tim would prefer. “Well then, how does one top that entrance?” Tim asks, a smirk on his face as he eyes Dick and the thrall at his side. “Perhaps I shall console someone who wanted an omega and choose them as my mate. I wish to spend the next year before my next heat in courtship with suitable alphas in hopes of making a life match. Perhaps you’d like to try?”

A chuckle sways through the room, good natured at Tim’s own teasing tone. Dick can’t help his own smile at Tim’s daring, as if alphas don’t have aggressive instincts that drive them to possess omegas when they tease like this. Then again, Tim is of very pure blood; no noble could hope to touch him even if they tried. No, if they want Timothy Drake then they shall simply have to woo him using flattery.

Something dangerous flashes in Tim’s eyes as he pulls a blue chrysanthemum out of his pocket, the flower of the intent, and with bold steps forward lays it on the dais at Bruce’s feet. Now the crowd is not laughing. In fact, no one so much as breathes. An omega chooses their mate with a flower, and a potential mate wears a ribbon to signify their devotion to the omega. It is often the alpha who presents the first gift of courtship to the omega in the Midnight Court. For Tim to buck tradition is bold… and only permissible because of his exceedingly pure blood. He’s the only omega in the Midnight Court who could possibly be a suitable omega to Bruce.

Although, in all honesty, Dick’s more amused at the thought of the old fossil taking such a young vampire into his bed. Tim is barely a hundred years of age – Bruce on the other hand is nearing six hundred. Only Ra’s Al Ghul, the King of the Waning Moon Court, is an older pureblood than Bruce. The rest either lie in Sleep or have passed away of their excessive age. A pureblood can live for a millennium or longer, theoretically, but few choose to do so. He considers his cheer for Tim, amusement at the boldness and the way Damian looks like he wants to spit and hiss like an angry cat over the gall of anyone daring to proposition his father, especially a vampire barely thirty years his senior.

“Very well.” Bruce replies diplomatically and rises to his feet. He bends down to pick up the flower and tucks it into the lapel of his coat. “I accept your offer of courtship, Timothy Drake.”

And Bruce has the gall to lecture Dick about scandal, Dick thinks as he casts a glance at his own omega, seated next to him. Oh yes, this next year will be interesting indeed.

*~*~*

It’s nearing dawn when the Midnight Court disperses, the revelries complete. Sometime in the middle of the night, Dick had nodded to a servant to take the thrall that now belongs to him away, to put him in his rooms to be dealt with after the festivities. He had almost forgotten about the omega entirely, surprised to see the creature curled up on Dick’s bed, bare feet poking out from under the hem of his robes as he grips his knees to his chest. The thrall glances up when Dick enters. His hands are freed, finally, but the choker of lace and bloodstone remains. The belt on his robes is gone, but he hides in the fabric like a shield. He’s bigger than Dick, in width if not in height. He’s still an adolescent vampire, even at eleven decades in age.

Dick approaches the bed leisurely, discarding clothing as he goes until he’s stripped to the waist and the omega is watching him warily. He hasn’t moved, except to curl his arms tighter around his waist, the robe tucked close around him and his head downcast.

“What’s your name?” Dick asks as he reaches for a sleep shirt and lays it on the end of the bed. He’s too tired to do anything tonight but curl around his new bed partner and save deflowering for the evening.

The omega shakes his head and curls further in on himself, chin tucked against his chest. It occurs then that Dick has not heard him speak. He’d thought the omega wanted to, earlier, but he kept his silence the whole night through.

“Can you speak?” Dick asks curiously. It doesn’t matter, not one way or another. Though he supposes it will be hard to maintain interest in the omega thrall if he remains silent during beddings. It isn’t terribly common, to take a thrall’s voice, but it wouldn’t surprise Dick if that were the case. Sionis has never had a reputation for being a patient vampire. Young thralls had a reputation for being… difficult…. It was one of the reasons why turning children was looked down on.

The omega shakes his hand free from the confines of a sleeve and in a slow gesture tilts his head back, touching the delicate collar around his throat. His eyes are closed and Dick finds his breath catching at the sight. The beautiful adolescent in his bed, head tilted back in a display of submission, reminds Dick that he was hungry before this evening began.

With wanting hands Dick reaches out to take the omega’s face, thumb brushing over silken lips. He slides across the bed, coming to cradle the omega against him. The thrall stills, breath a halting stutter as Dick presses his fangs against the thrall’s shoulder, just beneath the ornate collar. Dick licks the skin, teasing the flesh as his fangs guide over skin, sending a long shudder through the omega’s body in the exhale before Dick bites down.

The blood is surprisingly delicious, fragrant and warm as Dick gulps it down, made all the more so when the thrall beneath him moans breathlessly, as if he isn’t used to being fed from. Still, the instinct to struggle isn’t there, which means he’s been trained to be fed from, so Dick doesn’t think too much of drinking his fill, even as one hand finds the clasp of the choker and works it free. He drinks perhaps more than he should, entranced when the thrall falls against him with another cry. When he’s sated, Dick pulls away and licks the wound closed.

“You should know better.” Dick whispers to the thrall half asleep in his arms, nearly unconscious from the blood loss. “You shouldn’t bare your throat unless you want me to drink.”

“A small price.” The omega murmurs, his first words. Dick stills at them, surprised at how deep the omega’s voice is. “To have that collar removed.” It lies discarded in the omega’s lap, and with his free hand Dick touches it, feeling the magic woven into the stones that make up the flowers. So that was it. Dick considers replacing it but he rather likes the omega’s voice. It’s smooth and rich, even exhausted, and for now it pleases Dick, so he’ll let it remain.

“Your name.” Dick repeats the question from earlier, desiring an answer now that the secret to the omega’s muteness has been uncovered.

“Jason.” The thrall says.

“Jason.” Dick tastes the name on his lips. Yes, he’s enraptured by the thrall, his attention caught on the unexpected sweetness of his new prize. “You are lucky, you know, to grace the bed of a Midnight Prince.”

“Lucky.” The thrall repeats. “If you say so, master.”


End file.
